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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28266921">odds and ends</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, IT (Movies - Muschietti), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, The West Wing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Crossovers &amp; Fandom Fusions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:00:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,916</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28266921</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>So, these are some AUs, crossovers, fics that I've come up with and haven't finished (probably will not finish lol), so I've put them here!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James T. Kirk/Spock, Josh Lyman/Sam Seaborn, Spock/Nyota Uhura</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The West Wing IT AU</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Feel free to take any of these AUs/fics and run with them if you want! Thanks for reading!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s one week after Sam finds out his parents are getting a divorce, three weeks after the end of sophomore year, and two years after a clown demon nearly kills him and his friends when he hears a thud on the window. Sam's been awake reading <em> Great Expectations </em>by flashlight, the light harsh over the pages, the shadows sharpening the edges. He’s been tearing through books for the past week - anything to get his mind off of whatever’s happening with his parents. Sam doesn’t think of his dad. </p><p>There’s another thud, and Sam ignores it until he hears rapping coming from the window and jerks up. The book falls over his lap and he’s pissed off for a moment about losing his place before the rapping starts up again. He gets up, flicks on the bedside lamp, and walks over, yanking the curtains open to see whatever's making the racket - except that Josh’s on the other side. </p><p>Sam says, “What the hell.” Three times, to be exact. </p><p>This is before he realizes that Josh’s making a wide assortment of faces and gestures that probably translate to <em> god Sam, you’re a terrible best friend, let me in. </em>Sam unlatches the window, shoves it up, and watches Josh fumble from the - the roof? - and then he’s standing in Sam’s room and looking like he’s trying not to grin. He’s wearing one of those sweatshirts that’s three times too big for him and a pair of Vans that have probably seen better days.</p><p>“I honestly thought you’d be asleep,” Josh says, flicking his glance around the room. “You know, getting your eight hours and all? Aren’t you a health nut? Or maybe you’re a fake health nut and you actually are like all of us normies.” His eyes catch Sam’s sailboat models and he makes a face, but Sam gives him a look and Josh’s jaw clacks shut. </p><p>“For your information. I’m not a health nut,” Sam says. “That’s not - I just like to know what I’m putting in my body. Do you <em>read </em> the nutrition facts of that crap cereal you eat?” </p><p>“Sam,” Josh says, and his voice is lower, but he’s got his hands held up like he’s conducting an orchestra. Sam rolls his eyes. “You floss five times a day. That’s, like, top on the list of health nut geekery.”</p><p>“It's two times a day. Teeth are your best friends, Josh."</p><p>“You're just proving my point, Sammy.” Josh crosses the room and flops on Sam’s bed, crisscrossing his lanky legs. Josh’s gotten taller since they’d started high school, but CJ’s still got a good few inches on him. Toby’s taller than Sam and Josh but not CJ, and Charlie’s the same height as Sam, even though he’s a year younger. Donna’s two inches shorter than them, though you wouldn’t be able to tell with her - pluckiness. That’s the right word, Sam thinks, remembering how she’d reset Josh’s arm without blinking an eye, even though five minutes before, they’d all been cowering from that freaking clown. </p><p>“Don’t call me that,” Sam says, settling next to Josh. Josh says <em> Sammy </em>like a taunt shot through with something sweet, and Sam’s had too many mini-overthinking-freakouts figuring out what the hell it’s supposed to mean. </p><p>“Sam<em>my,” </em>Josh says, dragging it out, flashing a dimple, and now he’s just being annoying. It’s almost as bad as that stupid secret plan he’d made up to fix school fundraisers, which had been part of the campaign he’d ran for Matt Santos. Sam still has no clue how Josh, who’d been a freshman at the time, had been roped into senior class president elections, but he thinks it has something to do with a bet with Charlie and the time Josh had declared national parks boring when Dr. Bartlet had been observing their gov class. </p><p>“<em>Joshua</em>,” Sam replies, before he says, “So, mind telling me what compelled you to break into my house?” </p><p>“Sam,” Josh says, eyes wide. “I’m not a <em> criminal</em>. I - I have straight As. I play baseball. I do debate. I have a Walkman. Besides, you let me in, so maybe I should compel <em> you </em>to rephrase.” </p><p>Josh’s always been good at rationalizing bullshit (see: the time where he tried to get Charlie and Donna to spy on the PTA or see: the time where he’d crashed Sam’s date with Lisa Sherborne because he'd found the Real Thing. It was a new song from U2), but Sam just hits him on the shoulder before turning around and reaching for <em> Great Expectations. </em></p><p>“Are you doing ok?” Josh says, suddenly, and it’s nonchalant enough that Sam knows he’s trying not to come off as worried. It warms something up in Sam’s chest. “About your dad, I mean.”</p><p>“I’m - I guess fine would be dumb and arbitrary - so I’m going to go with disappointed,” Sam says, and it comes out all rambly and weird. With anyone else - even with CJ, Toby, Charlie, and Donna - he’d blush and probably change the subject, but Josh just nudges him and Sam knows that he gets it. They’ve always just <em> got </em>each other, and it’s a small measure of comfort that Sam holds onto when things seem especially bleak. </p><p>It’s not just Josh, even though he and Josh have known each other the longest. Sam’s strung to all of them - he's got newspaper committee meetings with Toby, who threatens to kick Will Bailey out at least once a week and mock trial with Charlie, who’s gearing to be a lawyer. Josh is too, but only in the vaguest sense; he does JSA, partly because Amy Gardner does Model UN and they didn’t end on great terms. </p><p>Donna and Sam get froyo together because the rest of their friends hate it. CJ’s someone that Sam’s simultaneously in awe of and terrified of - he remembers the way she’d gripped that bat in the depths of nowhere, knuckles chalk-white before she’d yelled <em> “Let’s kill this fucking clown!” </em>He’s spent afternoons with her down at the creek, knees pulled up, eyes to the sky. They all do nowadays when they're bored with the summer heat and want to kill time. </p><p>“Adults are disappointing in general,” Josh says, nearly dismissing, but Sam hears the catch in his voice and smiles.</p><p> “You just say that because none of them listen to you.” </p><p>“They don't listen to my <em>ideas</em>. Not my problem if they can't recognize genius.”</p><p>Sam raises an eyebrow. “Genius? Don't you think you're stretching it?” </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Sam comes back in S5 AU</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The stupid thing is that it starts with Will. Will, who leaves one message on Sam’s answering machine at Abbott &amp; Kindermann, because he’s not Josh, and he’s nice about these kinds of things. The message starts with Will updating Sam on how things are back in the White House, before he says, “So, Russell offered me the Chief of Staff job for his office. And - honestly, Sam, he’s more than we think, and no one’s taking me seriously here, so I’m leaving. I’m just calling because it’s your job that I’m leaving.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam had sent Will with a message for Toby, because he’d seen something in Will - hope when there wasn’t any, conviction even when everyone else was on the other side - and he’d thought that maybe, Will could paper over the cracks he’d left behind. This had also been when Sam had thought he’d be back in DC in February. He hadn’t counted on the 47th stinging like salt in the wound, jagged in all the places that he hadn’t realized were there. The aftermath of it all is like living in the negative, like everything’s brought down to below zero, and he barely registers anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So when he’d called Josh and told him he wasn’t coming back, he’d bitten his lip when Josh had pulled out argument after argument, piling evidence and rebuttals against Sam’s carefully clipped words. He’d bitten his lip and focused on the taste of blood, because there was something that told Sam if he’d paid attention, he’d be sucked into Josh’s orbit all over again and back in DC the next flight in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now Will’s working for Russell, which, yeah, Sam has his own objections to, but there’s a vacancy and Sam’s become kind of an expert at figuring out what people haven’t said in between all the words they do say. This isn’t about just him anymore. Maybe it never has been.</span>
</p><p><br/>***<br/><br/></p><p>
  <span>“So, maybe this is pedantic or childish or something, but I don’t care,” Toby says, Sam’s first day back. “You are probably the worst.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Toby’s maybe the sixth person to say some version of that to Sam today. First had been Ginger, then Bonnie, then a bunch of college-age interns who Sam had never met but apparently knew about him, then Donna, who’d waltzed her way from policy to communications just to tell him that. To be fair, she’d also hugged him right after, and he’d tried to fight back whatever was clawing in his chest, because otherwise, he might’ve done something stupid like cry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been told,” he says. “For the record, I’m here now, so maybe you could think of other adjectives.” Toby smacks his shoulder with a legal pad - it doesn’t really hurt, but Sam jumps anyway. “Staff in thirty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a clock,” Sam replies, because he’s not really sure what else to say to the look on Toby’s face, which is grumpier than usual, but somehow more happy than Sam’s ever seen him. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Rey Alternate Origin Character Study</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The night you are left on Jakku, you start forgetting. </p><p>First, it's the name you screamed as Unkar Plutt dragged you away. Then, it's the planet which you'd left, the fact that you'd been shaking the whole way. Then it’s your father - or your family, whoever they were supposed to be, and everything beyond that.</p><p>By the end of that week, you wake up, crying, for someone, for <em> something </em>, but you don't remember anything at all. You feel empty, a hollowed-out star with nothing left but sky. </p><p>***</p><p>Unkar Plutt absolutely <em> sucks. </em> You can say <em> sucks </em> even though some annoying part of you says that that's a bad word, but the women in Asvana Town don't care. Or, really, it's more like they really can't hear you because they're all old, so you say what you want. <em> Kriff </em> comes out when  you take a particularly bad tumble; you hear something <em> snap. </em>This turns out to be your ankle. </p><p>So, yeah, he sucks. The first night you lived under his roof, you woke yourself up screaming. The next day, he shook you awake and said, "You're too much trouble, girl." </p><p>He dumped you in Asvana because kids are useless as lumps, though you're pretty sure that a lump can't walk or talk or eat. You don't really know what a lump is, actually. You asked one of the women about it - Faora, or Ora, who has black hair darker than night streaked with star-bright white and hands rough as sand. She told you that Plutt says things like that because he's got half a brain. You agree and she laughs, curling a hand around a knee.</p><p>She's nice to you, Ora. The first night you arrived in Asvana, with the remnants of memories still shaking your shoulders, she took your hands and held them tight.  She gives you food, all grainy and coarse and strange, but you are so hungry all the time that you don't care. You spend your days in her tiny hut, baked hot in the Jakku heat.</p><p>You hear the other women talk to Ora sometimes, grumbling how she'd taken on a <em>rat,</em> <em>it's more mouths to feed, Faora, you have better things to do. </em>You run away before you hear Ora answer. </p><p> You expect her to stop giving you food, to stop being kind, to stop fixing your hair in the mornings because you tie it all wonky, but all she does is offer crescent moon smiles cracked in the middle and her warm voice. Neither of you have enough - nobody ever has enough on Jakku, but you are are five and a half and you live in Asvana Town, and that boy who fixes parts for portions has finally started talking to you after you pestered him for three weeks, and Ora ties your hair in three buns every day because you insist.You don't want to say it's for the person who left you here, because you think that'll hurt Ora, crack her smile completely in two. You can't do that. </p><p>"Rey," she says, one night when you wake up, shaking. "I will be with you in the morning."</p><p>You stare at her eyes, green and dark. Every inch of Jakku is dusty brown, rusty grey, or clear blue. You believe her. </p><p>***</p><p>The boy - his name is Kyrean and he's eight - tells you about the <em> Millennium Falcon </em> one bright morning. Kyrean talks with his hands, eyebrows raised and arched. </p><p>"...And it did the Kessel in <em> fourteen parsecs! </em>I mean, that's what the rumors say," he says animatedly as you stare at a flimsi he’s brought. It has a picture of a speeder, kind of like the ones you see people ride to Asvana in. </p><p>"I mean, I dunno Rey, Han Solo's supposed to be a crazy good pilot, so maybe it's true," He grins at her. You stare back, having caught only the tail end of whatever Kyrean's yammering about today. Not that you don't like it - Ora's the only other person who really talks to you. She's slow and warm but Kyrean runs like a burning star, saying whatever's in his head, even if you haven't said anything back.</p><p>You stare. "Han Solo?" </p><p>Kyrean's eyes go wide and his mouth drops open. "Oh stars, you don't know? He's like the best smuggler this side of the galaxy.” </p><p>You don’t know many things, it seems, but something about this <em> Han Solo </em> makes you want to reach out - learn more.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Reverse Batman Age AU</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ok, this one's more for the summary lol:</p><p> </p><p>  <em> "...you don't seem surprised," Bruce says, slowly. "And you're not discouraging me."</em></p><p> <em>"Bruce," Kate says, "Could anyone tell you to do anything?"</em><br/></p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Kate is eating pancakes in the kitchen. Bruce stares. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Master Bruce," Alfred says at the stove. "Miss Katherine will be in our company for a couple of days. I took the liberty of preparing breakfast." As Bruce stumbles, a little dumbfounded, into a seat on the island, he continues staring at Kate, who's making sure to put more syrup on every new pancake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Dad and Catherine are on a getaway or something," she says. "I'll be out of your hair by the weekend." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Nonsense; you are welcome here anytime," Alfred says, before setting a plate of pancakes in front of Bruce, who keeps staring at Kate. It's not like he doesn't </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> her; she's one of his more tolerable extended family members and she's always been pretty amenable to conversation about whatever. She's never treated him like a baby. The thing is, Bruce can't remember the last time they actually talked that wasn't in passing in school hallways.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good morning," he says, before starting to eat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you like my hair?" she asks, and Bruce studies it. The last time they'd seen each other, it had been in a braid. Now it's barely chin length, a hot shock of red. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It fits you," Bruce says, because he doesn't know what to say, and she grins. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Star Trek AOS Epistolary Fic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Spock, Personal Log, Entry #234</b>
</p><p>Evidently, there are alternate dimensions, and in one of them exists myself and James Tiberius Kirk leading the USS Enterprise. There lies many fallacies in boarding the Enterprise. I would not be able to assist the surviving Vulcans with finding and populating a new colony. I may further aggravate relations with my father, and we have reached somewhat of cordial relations because of my mother’s deceased state. I will not be able to assist in repopulation of the colony.</p><p>Nyota has stated that she is supportive of my endeavors, although she has been offered a post on the USS Enterprise as Chief Communications Officer. It is a prestigious and uncommon post for a recent Starfleet graduate and it is logical that she would take the post. I am unsure what this means for our personal relationship, but I assume we will engage in some form of long-distance communication. </p><p>I am still concerned by my counterpart’s words. Significant events must have occurred in his lifetime in order for him to dismiss logic, and in his terms, “do what you feel is right.” I am still attempting to ascertain his relationship with his universe’s James Tiberius Kirk. Captain Kirk has not mentioned the existence of my counterpart, presumably under the falsehood that there will be some kind of cataclysmic event should we meet. I believe this is an illogical assumption on Kirk’ s part considering his academic rank at Starfleet Academy and the caliber of the tactical and scientific research he produced during his time as a cadet. Kirk has demonstrated emotional tendencies, however. This may explain his continued attempts to commission me as his First Officer, although he seems to have a good working relationship with Dr. McCoy, who in theory could act as a good sounding board for Captain Kirk. </p><p>I am still determining whether accepting this post and continuing my service in Starfleet would be beneficial. I am unsure if I would serve as a suitable First Officer to Captain Kirk, and do not believe I can use my counterpart’s experience as viable evidence. Regardless of if we possess the same genetic material, our experiences have made us separate individuals. It is illogical to assume I will make the same choices as him. </p>
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